Page 49 of Claimed By her Alien Prince

"Right," I muttered and walked in after he opened it for me.

I didn't even check if the guard locked the door behind me, I was sure the damn Daemons would take up position on both sides anyway. Not to mention the damn gargoyles, not even a mouse would be able to get by them.

Furiously I paced the floor, winding my way between the pillars, just to have something to do.There isn't even a freaking window in this room, I muttered. Followed by,I'll kill you, Seth.

Hot tears flowed down my cheeks at the thought of him and Azazel fighting up there, so many levels above me. He could be dead, and I wouldn't even know.

No, I stopped,I would know. I was sure of it, as sure as I was of my rapidly beating heart and the anger flowing through me. If something happened to Seth, I would feel it like a stab through my heart.

That didn't mean I wasn't worried. I hated the idea of him and Azazel fighting, of him and any of his brothers fighting. They werebrothers, for crying out loud. I hated this sick game Behlial was playing with them, and most of all I hated Behlial, the sick fuck. The devil. Satan. The monster.

My anger grew inside me like an out-of-control wildfire. My hands reached for a water-filled carafe, and I threw it against a wall, where the golden vessel bounced against it and splashed water all over the wall and floor with a loud bang before it hit the ground, rolling on it. I gave it a kick and knocked it into a pillar, but it only bounced off again. I ducked before the missile hit me.

That only infuriated me even more. Next, with a loud scream, I grabbed one of the golden plates and fired that at a wall. Frantically, I looked for something breakable, when the plate, too, bounced off the wall, dented, but otherwise remained intact.

I barely stopped myself from throwing Seth's tablet, some rationality inside me remained to remind me we still needed that, no matter how infuriated I was.

So instead, I pulled on the tablecloth until all the dishes, lidded domes, food, and everything else went crashing to the tiled floor. Then I upturned the table, screaming and cussing uncontrollably.

A chair followed, and when I finished turning all the furniture over, I pulled the sheets off the bed, punched and kicked pillows until I folded on the bed, hugging a pillow, crying uncontrollably, and even more when I smelled Seth on it. The moment the door opened, I sprung off the bed. "Seth!" I yelled, happy to see he was alive and seemingly unharmed.

He gave me a crooked grin before his expression changed when he noticed the condition our room was in. "Lil?"

With a scream, I ran toward him, fist lifted. I fully intended to slam it into his handsome cheek, because after the initial relief of seeing him alive, my fury returned full force.

"Lil?" he effortlessly grabbed my wrist and stopped my fist in midair.

Enraged, I kicked his leg. He yelped.

"Lil?"

"You miserable son of bitch!" I screamed. "Don't you ever dare to do this to me again."

I kicked again, while my free hand fisted and found his kidney. The blow didn't faze him as I should have known. This was the same man who continued fighting after being cut by mortferrym blades, from which one slice had brought me to my knees.

"Karamia," Seth soothed, taking both of my fists into his hands, and folding himself over me so I couldn't kick him any longer.

"Karamia, I'm sorry."

"Seth," I sobbed, still trying to free my wrists from his vise-like grip.

He let go of my hands and pulled me against his chest, where the steady thrum of his heart assured me he was alive.

Warm hands rubbed my back, moving up and down my arms. He lowered his head and kissed the top of mine.

"Karamia." His voice sounded like a purr, and I lost myself to it.

"Don't ever do that to me again," I mumbled against his chest, which unfortunately suppressed the venom in my voice, and my words came out more like a plea than a warning.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, holding me tight.

I took a deep, shuddering breath and leaned back, pushed my hands against his chest and pushed him away. His eyes assessed me; he was probably wondering if I was done attacking him. But all I wanted to do was search his face for any trace of the fight with Azazel. When I found none, I pushed myself further from him, ready to give him my blood if he had been hurt.

But thankfully there were no fresh marks on him, only the scars I had already kissed a hundred times.

"Azazel?" I asked.

"He's fine."

---